Nothing Comes Close To You
by Buttered Angie
Summary: Dean leaves Rory's life -and heart- shattered. Who will be there to pick up the pieces? [Trory]
1. Prologue

Title: Nothing Comes Close to You

Author: ButteR

Chapter: Prologue

A/n: Hope you like it! R/r please ^ ^ 

Nothing Comes Close to You

Prologue

___Her brown flowing hair trailed down over her shoulders, making obscure patterns in the wind. Her searching blue eyes captured the light from the sun for just a single moment before falling back into darkness- the shadow of her loss. Her pale cheeks, tinted lightly with pink, glowed through the wetness of her tears. In anguish and desperation she flung the horrible, beautiful golden band off her finger into the ocean, watching the waves sweep it away to remain forever submerged in unknown heartless depths. But it wasn't just the ring that was washed away by the salty, powerful wavesit was the broken shards of her heart___

Rory Gilmore knew what she had to do. She had known since she had walked into her plush-carpeted, over air-conditioned, large windowed office. No, she had known even before that. She had known what she had to do from the first moment she woke up that morning, when she found herself alone in her bed. Again_._

That was why she was walking so hurriedly to that little park on the corner of the busy road. It was a small island between buildings that had little more vegetation than the Sahara desert, not including the pitiful tufts of grass that surrounded the muddy puddle which the council liked to call a pond'. The minute pond was not the beautiful, sorrowful nirvana that she had envisioned for such a monumental chapter in her life story, but it would have to do. 

_Am I really able to do this?_ She thought suddenly. _Do I have the strength to throw away my entire marriage?_

_What marriage? _Another voice sounded in her head, this time filled with anger. _What kind of marriage involves you sleeping alone on the queen-sized bed that he bought? Why doesn't any other wife have to force herself to tell her little boy that his daddy will come home, that he does love his family, even when she doesn't believe it herself? No one else's husband would take off one day without warning and be gone for weeks on end. What kind of husband would do that?_

One that doesn't deserve marrying. 

Rory whispered the answer to her own question bitterly. 

As Rory's high heels touched the first shreds of grass, she wondered for the first time if her husband was safe. She hoped he was. Although he had put her through so much pain, although he ripped her heart apart, she still loved him. She knew it was pathetic, but she couldn't help how she felt. 

Sliding the golden band off her finger, she stepped forward and let the tears fall. The ring glimmered in the sun, and Rory had to look away. Averting her gaze, she caught sight of what was in front of her for the first time.

Where's the pond?

There wasn't even the slightest trace of moisture on the ground in front of her. All that was there was a brown, muddy ditch.

Rory couldn't believe it.

There's not even a pond! she exclaimed out loud to no one in particular. What am I supposed to do now? 

Rory felt a small vibration against her thigh. Her mobile phone was ringing. With shaking hands she took it out from her pocket, then suddenly threw it into the murky depths of the would-be pond.

Can't I throw away my engagement ring in peace? she screamed, frustrated and despairing. Red blotches were forming on her cheeks and the tears came down in huge, uncontrollable streams, splattering onto her white blouse and black designer jeans. Her body was wracked with sobs, and she felt like she would never feel loved again. There was nothing she could do, nothing that she would do. She couldn't even get rid of her engagement ring. Was she bound forever to a loveless marriage?

Wiping away the tears with one hand, she stood up and blindly walked. Not to her office, not to her car. Not even to the coffee shop. She just walked. Anywhere. Images of her and Dean's marriage raced through her mind. His voice kept repeating over and over in her head. The words were those that she had once rejoiced to hear but they were now a binding, a prison of her own making. 

_I love you Rory. Promise me that you'll never leave me._

_I promise._

Rory stopped walking immediately as that one memory automatically replayed itself in her mind. Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she failed to realise that she was standing in the middle of a road. An extremely busy road. 

Cars screeched to a halt. A man driving a smart-looking maroon Ferrari wound down his window and hollered out, You idiot! Get off the road! Horns beeped and headlights flashed, but for all the notice they got, they might as well be non-existent. If it weren't for a reassuring pressure on her arm pushing her forward, carefully guiding her as she walked numbly towards the non-descript, grey concrete footpath, she probably wouldn't have noticed if a car had knocked her over. 

Safely on the footpath, Rory turned to see the person that had helped her. It was a man, about half a head taller than herself. He was wearing a smart looking, broad rimmed black hat that was tilted at a jaunty angle, covering his eyes and most of his hair. He had a tidy, navy blue business suit on, and a grey tie with the word _Hero'_ imprinted on it in silver. Looking down, Rory saw that his shoes were made of beautiful, polished leather, which looked well cared for. Slowly lifting her gaze again, she saw that in his hand he carried a medium sized, brown leather bag. He was the average New York businessman. As her piercing blue eyes met his shadowed ones, she felt a pang of familiarity, like she should know this person, but no one in her past bore any resemblance to this figure.

she mumbled, suddenly coming to her senses, realising that it was rude to stare.

You're extremely welcome, Miss. Any time. Rory was sure that she had heard that smooth, deep voice before, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. When Rory didn't reply, the man took closer notice of her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

A penny for your thoughts? he asked lightly.

Hold out your hand. Rory said suddenly, out of nowhere. The man was obviously confused, but held out his hand obligingly. Rory slipped the golden ring into his smooth palm, and closed she closed his fingers over it.

I can't take this.

Give it to the woman that you love, and never leave her. 

Then Rory was gone, walking off quickly around a corner. The man stared off after her, the expression on his face unreadable.

What happened to you, Mary? he asked quietly, before walking away.


	2. Starting to get the picture

A/N: I hope you like this chapter and reviews are always welcome ^.^ okay, okay and to all the 1000 miles readers no i will not take long to put the next chapter us and yes i am typing right now . spend my life with you is due for an update too...but yeah at least i updated this one ^.^ have fun reading...thatz the important thing!

Nothing Else Comes Close

Chapter One: Starting to get the picture

::Head office at Peters and Associates::

With the sound of party horns and the sight of confetti spraying in the air, Archibald Maximillion entered his impressive, four-million-dollar office for the last time. Of course, his real name wasn't Archibald Maximillion; such a powerful name was only gifted to blue-blooded people. His real name was Jon Peters, but Rory and her co-workers unanimously agreed that the name Jon Peters was just too_ simple_ for such a prominent and complicated man as Archibald Maximillion. But even with his hard-driving determination, his backbreaking deadlines, and his seemingly never-ending ability to lecture, he was not immortal. His sideburns, touched with grey, were a telltale sign of this, and, with great reluctance, he had decided to hand his company, _Peters and Associates_, into the hands of one of his closest benefactors; The Dugreys. 

A large piece of cloth was strewn across Archibald's monumental, varnished oak table, which read: _Farewell. _Blinking back a tear Archie beamed at his employees, and almost smiled- a very rare phenomenon indeed. Rory Gilmore, one of Archie's young, new, sizzling-hot journalists, who, in Archibald's opinion was showing the potential of being a more successful editor than himself, hurried forwards with what looked like a farewell present. 

For you, Mr. Maximillion.

She smiled at him and held the gift out. 

It was enclosed in golden wrapping paper and tied up with a blue ribbon. Archie looked at the present with excitement to rival a young child on Christmas morning. He fumbled clumsily with the blue ribbon and ripped through the golden wrapping enthusiastically. Then, seeing what was inside, he paused, and then let out a loud, throaty laugh.

Inside the golden wrapping paper was a silver plaque with the following inscription engraved in fancy, flowing letters.

This Award is presented to Archibald Maximillion For Never Telling Us What We Wanted To Hear, But Always Telling Us What We Needed To Hear

Archie brushed back a tear and then spontaneously embraced the startled Rory in a hug. She hugged him back obligingly, and when they pulled apart she was smiling.

You're going to go on to great things, Archie said softly, staring at Rory straight in the eye. Then motioned his hands outward. All of you. Great people who will go on to great things.

Every single person in the office broke into applause, and there were few dry eyes. I just wish I were here to see it, he murmured sadly. But the Dugreys will take good care of this company, I'm sure of it.

_Dugrey_Rory racked her brains, trying to remember where she had heard that name before, but to no avail.

Ah! And there's your new chief editor now! Archie said, his face brightening and his eyes twinkling at somebody who had just entered the room. Rory turned around to see who it was. She was surprised to find that it was the young businessman who had helped her out a couple of days ago. Her face reddened at the memory, and she was shocked that this man was going to be her new boss! Rory was sure that she could not feel more surprised than she did at that moment, but was determined not to show it. Her guise fell away completely, though, with what Archie said next.

Everybody, please welcome your new boss, Tristan Dugrey! 

*

::A dinner room in an expensive hotel – farewell dinner:: 

Cheers to Archie!

Rory clinked her glass against Marie Redding's, with a huge smile on her face. Rory didn't really talk to Marie all that much. They didn't really have much in common, besides the fact that they worked in the same building. Marie was a formatter, and although Rory admitted that she was gifted at styling and decorating the newspaper articles, she really wasn't mentally equipped for anything more challenging than that. Not that Rory held this against her. It was just that Rory didn't know much about the quality of different brands of nail polish or the best shampoo products to use, and beyond those things, Marie was lost for conversation topics.

But tonight Rory was not her normal self. She was a giggly, chirpy, little miss popularity, unlike the witty, optimistic yet strangely sarcastic, bubble of furious energy that she usually was. Her _real_ friends, of whom she had only spoken to once, a hurried hello', before she rushed off to find Marie, were staring at her worried from a safe distance across the room.

In actual fact Rory was talking to Marie for her stimulating conversational skills, but for her doe brown eyes and shapely figure. Although Rory would never, _ever _admit it to _anyone_, the truth was that she was trying to impress Tristan. She saw Tristan eying Marie with interest earlier in Archie's office, so she thought that if she acted like she was a good friend of Marie's, Tristan might eye _her_ as well. Though the _reason_ that she wanted Tristan to eye her was completely lost on her. 

_I'm married. _Rory thought to herself, and instinctively moved her hand to touch her wedding ring, but found that it wasn't on her finger. Then she remembered. _I'm not married anymore _

Without warning, tears formed in Rory's eyes. She was less than half listening to what Marie was saying, nodding every so often but not really taking anything in. Involuntarily her thoughts shifted over to Dean, and how she hadn't seen him in over a month. She remembered a newspaper article she had read that morning about a bus crash in which there were still four unidentified people --- who were dead. 

_Dean could be one of those people_Rory thought suddenly. _And I wouldn't even know! _

And then Rory remembered David. _What do I tell him? That is father might be dead? That I wouldn't care if he were alive? _

Rory was shocked at herself for thinking such a thought. _Do I hate him that much? _**_Yes_**_. _

This was too much for Rory. The tears that had been welling dangerously in her eyes finally fell, and she tried to hold back a sob.

Rory? Is everything okay? Marie laid a concerned, manicured hand on her shoulder. Through her tears Rory could see her friends on the other side of the room, starting to head over to her. It took Rory a moment to realise she didn't want them to comfort her. She needed some space.

Muttering some excuse to Marie about the combined affects of hay fever and Archie's farewell, she hurried off to the nearest door she could find. Thankfully the door led outside, into the hotel foyer. Holding a hand up to her face to muffle the sobs, she quickly ran, as fast as her high heels would let her, outside onto the sidewalk. Sitting on a cold concrete step, it was there that she let go and cried all the sorrows that were in her heart. 

*

Tristan leant over the reception desk, a little embarrassed.

Can I have some more of those peppermint things? he asked the pretty receptionist lady. 

Of course, she smiled at him obligingly, and handed the handsome blonde guy the entire basket of sweets, making sure that he caught a glimpse of her wedding ring. Tristan flashed a smile in turn and took the basket.

Let me give you a tip he said, and reached into his pocket for some stray coins, but instead his hand fell on the ring Rory had given him a couple of days before. As he thought about her, by some strange coincidence, he saw her, rushing out of the room the dinner was in and out into the sidewalk. 

On second thoughts, I'll have to take a raincheck he murmured, and walked out to join the pretty girl who was crying shamelessly on the sidewalk. He sat down silently next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. She fell into his arms crying. 

*

Dean was pretty drunk. Even he knew that. He had been spending the last three days and nights in a bar, with his new friends, Truckie and he couldn't quite remember the other guys name. All he knew was that he was walking sluggishly on a sidewalk, bumping into walls and people. Who could be bothered walking straight, anyway? Not him, that's for sure. 

He passed a fancy hotel. People were eating and drinking inside. Drinking. Dean grinned. Turning his head to the side absently he caught sight of a girl with brown hair in the arms of a blonde guy. Brown hairbrown hairRory! His Rory! In the arms of another man! 

He called out, not aware the he was slurring his words. The brown haired girl turned around, surprise in her blue, blue eyes, which were rimmed with red. She stood up quickly and came towards him, worried. Leave me alone! he roared, hurt clear on his face even in his drunken state. He turned around and started walking off.

Dean! Wait! he heard his wife call out from behind him, but he didn't care.

*

Tristan watched the exchange silently. When it was over, he touched Rory's shoulder softly. Don't go after him, he whispered.

But to Tristan's surprise she recoiled. Don't touch me! she shrieked, and ran back into the hotel, leaving Tristan staring at the spot where she was standing. He was starting to get the picture now 

Sighing, he walked obligingly back into the hotel. 


	3. Waiting for the sun to rise

_Have you ever been so unsure of how you feel that you want to break down and cry, but then realise that you don't have the courage, or the heart to feel sad? When you're the only one in the whole universe who's completely alone and you have no one to catch you when you fall, you know that everything you've worked for, everything you've loved for, has been for nothing. It's then when you realise that nothing else comes close to what you had _

Rory pressed the save button on her computer screen. There were no more tears now, only emptiness. 

David tiptoed into his mother's lap, curling up in her arms. He had Dean's dark brown hair and stern gaze, but his eyes were bluer than Rory's. 

David sweetie, what are you doing awake? Rory murmured, stroking his silky hair. 

I was lonely. All by my own. David frowned. 

You mean all by your_self_, Rory corrected gently.

Little three-year-old David sighed, like the weigh of the world was on his young shoulders. Why doesn't daddy tuck me in anymore?

Rory groped for something to sayanything. On a business trip. She concluded lamely, letting David wrap his tiny hand around her ring finger of her left hand.

Where's your wing?

I don't have any wings, Rory smiled slightly.

No, not your wing, where's your _wing_. David persisted.

Rory laughed, and David beamed. His young ears had not heard his mother laugh for a very long time. Ever since her daddy stopped tucking him in Rory tickled his tummy and kissed his button nose.

I lost it, she said, after awhile. 

And daddy went to find it! That's why he's not here! He went to find your wing! David was amazed it his own brilliance, and proud that he had solved the mystery of his father's absence all on his very own.

But I already told you, I never had any wings. Rory said, amused at the simplicity of the child's mind.

Not wing, I said _wing_." David said, his big blue eyes regarding his mother seriously. 

Rory laughed a second time. David, content that his mother was suitably happy, nestled his head in her arms and promptly fell asleep. Standing up carefully, with David still in her arms, she walked upstairs to her bedroom. Placing David next to her, she quietly lay down on the large, king-sized bed, next to him, and drew the covers up close. Watching David's small form breathing suddenly prompted images of drunken Dean in her mind, and how Tristan, the blonde-haired boy from Chilton, and her soon-to-be boss, destroyed what might have been the one and only chance she had to convince her husband to come back home. She knew it wasn't Tristan's fault; he just did what any normal human being would've done when comforting a damsel in distress, but her anger wasn't rational tonight. It was never rational. Tossing and turning in her bed, she found that she couldn't sleep. After half an hour of loneliness and horrible thoughts, she knew that she wasn't going to get any sleep at all that night. She looked at the clock. It was 1:30am. She wished desperately for the sun to rise.

* * * 

Tristan ran his hand through his messy blonde hair, and then ran it through again. He needed all the sleep he could get in preparation for next week, when he had to make his opening speech, his official entering into the world of newspapers and editing. But somehow, the only image that placed itself in his mind was of Rory Gilmore's face, and her voice kept ringing in his ears, telling him not to touch her. 

Just the thought of it made him shiver and his body broke out into cold sweat. Getting up off his bed, he threw on a shirt and some jeans, and headed out of his ten story apartment, checking the clock as he went. 2:30am. _Damn, _he thought. _Why couldn't the sun rise quicker?_

Finally, he decided to go to his new office, to see if he could get a start on that speech. Walking down the cold, concrete, New York slab of pavement, he noticed the full moon in the sky and shivered. Full moons were only for hopeless romantics. He was relieved to finally let him inside the quiet recluse of the building his office was located in. As he walked up the stairs and down a hallway, he noticed the light on in the room next to him. Curious, he let himself in.

The computer made a murmuring sound and automatically shut itself off. Whoever had been in there had only just left, shutting the computer down behind them. His eyes flew onto the various ornaments on the computer desk, involuntarily. He caught a glimpse of a picture of a very young brown haired boy with stunning blue eyes, and a small imitation of an award, which read:

_Rory Gilmore, Employee of the Year._

Rory Gilmore, huh, he said allowed, and thought it a coincidence that out of all the offices that had their lights still on, it had to be hers. The pretty Chilton girl from his past with such a hope-filled streak through her and an unquenchable spirit. The girl he couldn't get off his mind

She's married, Dugrey, he reminded himself. This is no time for old, school boy crushes. He turned to go, and in doing so caught a glimpse of a piece of paper fresh from the printer. It still smelled of wet ink. Picking it up gingerly, he read the first word, then the first line, and then the whole thing

Have you ever been so unsure of how you feel that you want to break down and cry

Tristan read the last line with amazement. He had never read something like this before. Something as helpless, and soulful. He was suddenly compelled to give this young lady some hope, some help, some inspiration to live. He hurried into his office and began typing

* * *

As Rory hurried into her office the next morning, she thought it ironic that she should be late when she hadn't slept a wink that night. In actual fact she forgot that David had his doctors' appointment that morning, and then there was a waiting line, and then she had remembered that she had left her wallet on the televisionand so on. Sitting down with a flourish, she picked up the piece of paper that she had printed out last night, when she thought a midnight trip to the office would do her some good. But, when she arrived that moonlit night, she found that all she wanted to write was soulful prose like that. She didn't even know why she printed it out. She was compelled. 

But underneath that paper that was another. Rory was confused, she could only remember printing out one thing. Turning the lights on to get a better look, she read

No matter how bad things seem, there is someone out there, out in that wide universe full of wonder and glory, who loves, has loved and will never stop loving you. Someone who you might never notice. Someone who you pass everyday without so much as a second glance. Someone you can love back


	4. Keeping distances

**a/n: thanks for all your reviews! Keep it up! ^.^ ** **Nothing Else Comes Close**

**Chapter Three **

**Keeping Distances **

Tristan Dugrey sat back in his comfortable leather chair, the enamelled oak desk in front of him gleaming in the artificial light. Casually piling together a couple of stray papers, he purposely shuffled them into a neat bundle, carefully laying them directly in front of him, not looking up at the bright-eyed, brown haired journalist in front of him, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. 

"So what did you want, _Mrs…_" Tristan said, emphasising the 'Mrs' part. Rory flushed slightly. 

"Gilmore," she finished his sentence sharply, and a little too quickly. Tristan looked up and examined the young lady in front of her. Stunning blue eyes stared back at him, portraying no discomfort, but it was her hands that betrayed her. She had the fingers of her right hand twisted tightly around the forth finger of her left hand – so tightly that the knuckles were white. 

"But I thought that you were marri- " Tristan ventured bravely, but was cut off by an emotionless reply. 

"I am." 

"You married another Gilmore?" Tristan's voice was cool, but underneath the carefree exterior he had an irresistible hunger of curiosity for his old Chilton friend. He wanted…no he _needed_…to find out everything he could about her. He was concerned; she was obviously going through a tough time. 

"I kept my name." Rory said flatly. 

"Lucky that," Tristan murmured, his eyes probing. Rory shrugged, feigning slight annoyance even though her heart was pulsating in her chest, giving her a seemingly perpetual thudding in her ears and throat. 

Tristan cleared his own throat, and suddenly snapped into business mode. Shoving his painstakingly assembled pile of papers away absently, he clasped his hands in front of him, trying to act professional. "So what was that you wanted?" 

"I just wanted to… " Rory stammered, aware of Tristan's complete attention. 

"You wanted to what?" 

Rory's eyes glanced at a stray piece of paper that had floated over near her. Picking it up she heard Tristan sharply inhale behind her. 

"Don't touch that." 

Rory looked at him in surprise. "Why not?" she asked- intrigued for the first time in weeks. For one glorious moment, she wasn't thinking about Dean. Her eyes lighted up with the curiosity that every good journalist should feel when holding a 'confidential' document in their hand. 

Tristan swallowed, and Rory saw that his ears were touched with pink. _First sign of thinking under pressure…_she thought automatically to herself. _Now here come the lies… _

"Because it's my speech. You know, for my official entrance into the company." Tristan lied, confirming Rory's prediction. 

"Oh, so you wont mind if I proof-read it for you?" Rory asked innocently, and set her blue eyes on the paper. Tristan sat up swiftly and snatched the paper out of Rory's hand, but not before she got a good look at the first line. 

_No matter how bad things seem, there is someone out there…_

"You wrote that!" Rory exclaimed after a long silence. 

Tristan scratched a spot on the back of his head uncomfortably. "Yeah…" 

"…Which means you read what I wrote before…" Rory's tone was accusing. 

"Yeah…" Tristan's voice was reduced to nothing more than a hoarse whisper. 

Rory let the air hang between them for a second, and then levelled her gaze with his. 

"Stay out of my office." 

* 

Rory, in her thin black tank top and white denim shorts, ran to the door, her wet hair wrapped in a huge bundle of towel on top of her head, and her feet making slippery imprints on the ground. The knock on the door grew more urgent, and one word echoed through Rory's mind- _Dean. _

Unlocking the door with shaking hands, she prayed that David was asleep already- this was one conversation that she definitely did not want her son to hear. 

Rory's face issued shock and unmerciful anger, though, as she saw who was on the other side of the door. Instead of the kind, loving husband that she had been expecting, what stood in front of her was a tower of muscle topped with blonde hair. The last person she wanted to see. It was Tristan. 

"What on earth are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. _Why can't he just leave me alone? _Rory wondered inwardly. _I've just got too much going on at the moment to deal with somebody who wont mind their own business! _

"I wanted to apologise for this morning. Like, it was way out of line for me to go into your office. It was really unprofessional." Tristan averted his grey-green eyes the floor, shuffling uncomfortably. Rory could tell that he didn't apologise often. 

"You came all the way here just to say that?" Rory asked, opening the door a little wider. A sudden suspicion struck her. "How did you get my address anyway?" 

Tristan's cheeks seemed to take on a pink glow, but he answered her obligingly. "I looked it up in the company file." 

"Oh." 

Like a deer caught in the headlights Tristan awaited the furious rampage that he knew was coming. 

"So you came here to apologise for invading my privacy, yet in doing so you invaded it once again?" Rory snapped. 

"Uh…yeah, basically." Tristan admitted, feeling his pride sink lower and lower into the ground. _How come every time she talks to me it's to say something angry? _He thought. _Take the hint, Dugrey. _

When Rory just stared at him, he added unnecessarily, "Sorry." _Time to leave. _He advised himself inside his head. 

"So I guess I'll be going…" he said awkwardly. "Uh…nice house." 

"Thanks." Rory said quietly, and Tristan looked up just in time to see Rory slam the door in his face. 

"Well that was uncalled for!" he shouted at the wooden door. When he received no reply he strode as quickly as he could out of Rory's front garden, glaring at some buttercups as he passed them. 

* 

Rory exhaled slowly, feeling guilty about slamming the door on Tristan. It wasn't him; really, he wasn't the cause of her slamming the door. The actual cause for her slamming the door was wrapping itself around her ankles, and looking up at her with gigantic eyes. 

"Who was at the door, mommy?" Little David asked. Rory smiled and picked David up off the floor, rubbing his nose against hers. 

"Just someone from work, sweetie," Rory said. For some strange reason which she couldn't pinpoint, she did not want Tristan to know that she had a son. 

"It wasn't daddy?" Rory's heart fell. 

"No, it wasn't daddy." 

David looked at his mother sadly, and gave her a cuddle. "I thought you said he was coming back soon." 

"He is coming back soon, honey." Rory said, swallowing and feeling tears sting her eyes. "Come on, it's time to go back to bed." 

So with David curled up in her arms, she carried him to his room, laid him down in his bed, and watched him as he slept, letting the tears fall silently. 

* 

Dean came home later that night. He didn't bother knocking on the door; he just slammed his way in. Cheap wooden doors were cheap to fix, anyway. As he stepped into the lounge room, he saw that his wife and son had already gone to bed. Shouldn't they be waiting up for him? Weren't they worried about him when he didn't come home? Did they even care? 

It didn't seem like it. 

Dean grunted, and went upstairs into his and Rory's room. He saw the silent form of his wife sleeping in their queen-sized bed alone. Hovering over her he breathed loudly, the smell of beer polluting the air. Rory stirred and awakened, turning over warily and switching on a lamp. Her blue eyes met his brown, angry ones. 

Oh, he would make those innocent blue eyes pay, he thought in his drunken head. He'd make her pay for not caring. For…for…what was it again? Images flashed in his mind. Blonde hair…wrapping himself around _his _wife. Yes, that was it. She was cheating on him with a blonde haired man. Well, Dean would definitely make her pay. 

"Dean?" Rory's soft voice cut through his thoughts. "Dean…?" 

Dean turned down to face his wife. Rory caught the angry, dangerous glimpse in his eyes. He lunged at her. She tried to move away but he was just too fast. He pinned her arms down on the bed, and lay on top of her, pushing the entire weight of his body on her so that she couldn't escape. Then he started kissing her violently. She winced and tried to get away as he forced her shirt off, then started screaming, pleading for someone to help her… 

But no help came. 

* 

David woke to the sound of his mother screaming. Drowsily getting out of his bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and toddled towards her room to check if she was okay. Walking down the hallway he saw that her bedroom door was open. He saw that she was lying on her bed, his daddy on top of her. 

"Daddy!" he squealed with happiness, and ran towards his father, his arms outstretched. Dean looked up from Rory, who was now whimpering, to see his son come running at him. Using one strong arm he whacked his son on the head, once, twice, three times, until the annoying kid fell to the ground, unconscious. Ignoring Rory's screams for her son, he turned back to her and continued what he had started, not noticing the phone ringing in the background… 

* 

Tristan looked up at the starless sky, waiting for Rory to pick up the phone. She wasn't answering, and Tristan couldn't understand why he kept trying. She obviously didn't want him around. Well, that was fine with him. He was her boss, anyway. They had to keep their relationship professional, which meant he had to ignore the feeling in his chest every time he saw her, and that instinctive force in his brain that somehow always encouraged him to act like a moron. Finally hanging up the phone, he decided that he would just have to keep his distance from Rory Gilmore. 


End file.
